The Creator
by jazwriter
Summary: Caroline's machinations to obtain an internship at the Mirror bring Andy back into Miranda's life. From Miranda's POV, a companion piece to "The Truth." I originally posted this on my LJ page in the fall of 2010.
1. Chapter 1

**The Creator**

Author: JAZWriter/JAZWriter13

Pairing: Miranda/Andrea, The Devil Wears Prada

Author Notes: This is a companion piece to _The Truth_. It is not necessary to read it to understand this story. That said, it does provide context.

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Devil Wear Prada_, its characters, New York, or French and English words. I am not profiting from this story (except through positive comments which feed my Muse). It is created through the fair use doctrine or some such pish-posh.

Rating: NC-17 since it is written through a grown-up's point of view instead of a sixteen-year old's viewpoint (see _The Truth_ for that sweet, limited POV—thanks!)

Special Thanks—to my lovely betas, who got to read this several times from the (extremely) rough draft to the (somewhat) polished finish. So, thank you, shesgottaread, quiethearted, and law_nerd (I'm blowing kisses at you right now!)

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Part 1

**Duplicity: early 15th century, from Modern French **_**duplicite**_**, from Late Latin **_**duplicitatem**_** "doubleness" or "being double," in Modern Latin "ambiguity," from **_**duplex**_** "twofold." The notion is of being "double" in one's conduct; deception.**

**1. speaking or acting in two different ways concerning the same matter with intent to deceive; double-dealing. **

**2. a twofold or double state or quality. **

One hand resting on a cocked hip, Miranda stands in front of her office window gazing down at the river of people streaming past Rockefeller Center. Her eyes feel tired from hours of peering at photograph thumbnails, the results of their latest photo shoot. Idly, Miranda plays with the chunky opal necklace she wears while allowing her mind to wander.

Cassidy is away at soccer camp for the month. Miranda sighs. She misses her daughter. Now sixteen years old, Cassidy and her twin sister, Caroline, are young adults displaying pronounced independent streaks. They are growing so quickly. _Where has the time gone?_

Caroline had begged Miranda to allow her to attend a week-long writing conference. So different from her sister. Miranda remembers when the girls did everything together. Not so anymore. It seems Caroline desires to follow in Miranda's footsteps to some extent. Caroline has mentioned several times her dreams to write for a fashion magazine, to be the one to comment on the latest trends.

Miranda isn't sure how she feels about that. She is not oblivious to all the sacrifices she has had to make to become and remain a successful businesswoman. Nor of how her passion to succeed has driven away those closest to her. Her personal failings have become fodder for jokes made at her expense. And why wouldn't those trashy rags and late-night funnymen joke about what they perceive to be her inability to love and to be loved? In Miranda's case, they portray her, a successful, independent businesswoman, as truly a failure in disguise. They interpret her fierce persona as a frigid, forceful, and unlovable woman.

After so many years and so many failed relationships, Miranda is beginning to wonder whether she has unwittingly become the woman others believe her to be.

Knowing how easily she has shut herself off from others time and again, from the possibility of being vulnerable and failing yet again, Miranda has worked particularly hard to create close relationships with her daughters. After the last divorce, Miranda feared they would simply withdraw from her. However, Miranda would not allow it. Instead, she made a point of being home for dinner with them several times a week, even when that meant she needed to return to _Runway_ afterward.

The girls noticed her efforts. In return, they talked to her, really talked to her. No longer did they chatter away about inconsequential subjects while Miranda's mind wandered toward the work she needed to complete. No. They began to ask Miranda questions, enough questions that Miranda remained grounded in their interactions. It became habitual. Now Miranda's mind never wanders when communicating with either of her daughters. Miranda believes this to be an excellent change.

Miranda has included this change into her interactions with others, too. Emily nearly melted into the floor the first time that Miranda stopped perusing the periodicals spread over her desk and focused completely on her assistant. Miranda has no doubt Emily had been frantically wondering what she had done so abhorrently to garner Miranda's undivided attention. Miranda cannot help but smile slightly at the remembrance. Emily has since moved on to work in the art department at Miranda's urging. Sometimes she misses the redhead.

Not as much as she misses Andrea, though. Never that much.

_Andrea._

Andrea had shocked Miranda when she had displayed the temerity to walk away in Paris.

Miranda should have recognized in that moment of awful truth, that moment when she watched Andrea cross the plaza with a determined pace, just how unusual her reaction was toward a person she should have long forgotten by now.

She hadn't recognized anything, though. She hadn't wanted to examine her feelings.

She had wanted to forget the insolent girl. She had wanted to forget the doe eyes and silky hair, the tremulous smile and alluring body. She hadn't wanted to remember how the young woman had earned her respect or how essential she had become—no.

Nor does Miranda want to think about her at this moment.

Striding to her desk, Miranda calls for the current assistant, softly. "Where is my coffee?"

"Did you ask—"

Miranda lifts an eyebrow imperiously and glares at the insipid fool as her words peter off uncertainly. _How dare she._ In a low voice, Miranda states, "You have five minutes to get me a fresh cup. Not a second more." Smiling grimly as she watches the girl rush away, Miranda refocuses on her work. A muscle jumps in her jaw as she clenches her teeth.

There will be no more thoughts about the past. No more thoughts about failed relationships and lonely nights. No more thoughts about what she should have done, if only she had faced her feelings years ago.

It has been five years. Five years of avoiding the truth that has taunted her through dreams. It is only during those nights, those nights filled with dreams of Andrea, that she is not able to control her regret and yearning for what cannot be with a woman who had swept through Miranda's world and, without regard, rent it apart upon her exit.

Just last night Miranda dreamt once again of climbing a mountain. Andrea walked ahead of her clearing the way. When it began to rain, streams of water threatened to sweep Miranda off her feet. Andrea's grasp on her arm kept Miranda steady. As Miranda became more and more tired, she leaned on Andrea while slogging her way across the muddy ground. When it became too hard to continue, she realized that Andrea's hand no longer supported her. Looking around through the steady precipitation, Miranda's panic rose. She could not find Andrea.

The mountain was so steep, the rain so heavy, the ground so slippery, and Andrea was not next to her.

Sometimes at this point in the dream, she would fall, sliding on her belly down the mountain while her arms flailed helplessly. Other times, Miranda would feel tears of hopelessness mingle with the rain as she lifted her head toward the weeping sky. In last night's dream, she simply lowered herself to the ground, wrapped her arms around her knees while placing her cheek upon them, and closed her eyes in defeat. She did not wish to continue. Not without Andrea by her side.

Today her heart feels heavy. Miranda shakes her head in irritation. To think she is still grieving the loss of that silly girl!

Although Miranda may not be able to control her sorrow while asleep, she sure as hell can control such thoughts while awake. She will not—

"Miranda, Barbara Carson from the Columbia University summer program is on line one." Miranda feels a flutter in her stomach as uneasiness washes over her. That's where Caroline is taking her writing course.

Picking up the line, Miranda says, "Yes?"

"This is Barbara Carson from Columbia University. I'm calling regarding the creative writing course your daughter, Caroline, is registered to attend."

"Yes?" Miranda wonders where this is going. It is only the first day of the workshop.

"Well, she isn't here. I was wondering whether she had changed her mind about attending. We have a long waiting list, so if she doesn't need the spot, I'd like to go ahead and give it to someone else."

Miranda pulls the phone away from her and stares at it in confusion. "She's not there," Miranda says in a flat tone.

"No. You knew that, didn't you?"

Miranda cuts her off as she waves a hand dismissively. "Of course. I thought you'd been notified. Please do give the seat to another deserving student. Thank you for your call." Miranda hangs up without waiting for a response and turns her chair around. She stares sightlessly through the window. _What is my willful child playing at?_

Miranda is a master manipulator. She likes to stay one step ahead of everyone else. She has always thrived upon the look of shock and grudging respect—with the odd spattering of hatred and grief thrown into the mix—when she has outmaneuvered those who have sought to obtain the upper hand against her. It is why she was so astonished by Andrea's abrupt exit from her life.

Acknowledging ignorance in any situation, particularly when pertaining to her girls, is anathema to her.

Before Miranda can call anyone to determine just where Caroline is, her cell phone rings. Miranda reads Caroline's name in surprise. Taking the call, Miranda says softly, "Hello, Bobbsey. How is your day?"

"It's great, Mom. I'm learning so much!" Caroline sounds excited.

_At least she's safe._ "Where are you? It sounds noisy." Miranda can hear traffic and voices—not the normal classroom environment.

"Oh. I, um, I'm outside. We were given a break for lunch, and I wanted to stretch my legs," Caroline explains.

Miranda withholds a sigh. _Why is Caroline lying to me?_ She debates confronting Caroline regarding her duplicity but quickly discards the impulse. She needs to see Caroline's face when she talks to her about why she is not where she should be, why she is calling as if she hasn't been lying for months about how great this workshop is supposed to be and how desperately she has wanted to attend. "I see. Don't eat the junk food that is so prevalent on college campuses. Have a salad."

"I will, Mom. I'll see you tonight. Love you!"

"I love you, too. Have fun and be safe." Disconnecting the call, Miranda taps her chin with the arm of her glasses. Although her first reaction is to call Caroline back and demand to know her location, Miranda firmly squashes those feelings. Her daughter has gone to great lengths to cover up where she is.

Caroline has never lied to her before. Miranda has always been able to read her children easily. She cannot help but wonder why her daughter has felt the need to lie about the workshop. Miranda would do anything to make her children happy. They know that.

_Don't they?_

Five years ago, the answer might have been no. However, Miranda finds it hard to believe that all the efforts she has made since Stephen left, and since Andrea left, have been for naught.

Miranda cannot shake the nagging feeling that she is missing something. Caroline was so excited this morning, bouncing around like Emily on five cups of coffee. Miranda's lips curl at the thought.

Seeing her assistant hurry in with piping-hot coffee, Miranda makes a decision. "I am leaving at five today."

"O-Okay," she stutters. As she practically runs out of the room, Miranda can hear her muttering the names of people she will have to call to reschedule the evening appointments. Miranda isn't concerned. Caroline is much more important.

Although undeniably brilliant, Caroline is not well-versed in deception. For this, Miranda is grateful. Miranda's inclination is to believe that Caroline is going to some predetermined destination each day, somewhere that makes her daughter extremely excited.

_Is it a boy? _Miranda doesn't think so. But she isn't sure.

That bothers her.

She will simply have to compel Caroline to tell the truth.

The problem, Miranda acknowledges, is that Caroline and she are very much alike. Stubborn, driven, independent. To a fault. If Caroline has gotten it into her head that she must do this, whatever "this" is, alone, then Miranda will have to tread carefully.

Regardless, Miranda will find out what she needs to know. No one can prevent her from uncovering the truth. Not even herself.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

**Interview: (1514) "face-to-face meeting," from Modern French **_**entrevue**_**, verbal noun from **_**s'entrevoir**_** "to see each other, visit each other briefly, have a glimpse of," from **_**entre-**_** "between" (from Latin **_**inter-**_** ) + Old French **_**voir**_** "to see" (from Latin **_**videre**_**).**

Waiting for Andrea to arrive is a strenuous exercise in patience for Miranda. To think she had picked her own daughter's essay out of all the entrants for a summer internship at the_ Mirror_—how intriguing. It turns out Caroline wants to be a news journalist. To that end, she had submitted an application and essay to one of Miranda's scholarships under a false name. As if that fortuitous event were not enough to cause Miranda pause, the_ Mirror_ assigned Andrea as Caroline's mentor. Miranda shakes her head in disbelief. After all these years, to have their paths cross in such a definitive way—Miranda is not a fan of serendipity. She has always believed in creating the events in her life and on not relying upon some magnanimous and kindly God to hand her what she desires or any such ridiculousness.

She can't help but think that perhaps something bigger is at work this time, though. If she is courageous enough, Miranda is being given an opportunity to bring Andrea back into her life. Miranda knows she'd be a fool not to grab such good fortune with both hands and hold it tight.

Hold her tight.

Miranda is unsettled. She doesn't usually experience these types of feelings, but truly, she feels as if her life is about to change. It is a bit terrifying. And exciting. Taking a deep breath as she hears the doorbell ring, Miranda nods her head definitively and walks into the hallway just in time to hear something that makes her stop short.

"Hi. Thanks for coming. I promise not to send you upstairs again," Caroline jokes as Andrea walks into the foyer.

_What did Caroline say? She won't send Andrea upstairs again? What does that—_Miranda's eyes widen in comprehension. _Is that why Andrea came up the stairs the first time she delivered the Book? _Miranda had wondered why Andrea, such a bright woman, had not heeded the rules for delivering the Book. She knew Emily had told Andrea not to talk to anybody and to never go upstairs.

However, if her daughters had tricked Andrea into it….Miranda gasps.

"What do you mean by that, Caroline?" Miranda demands.

Andrea quickly steps forward to greet Miranda, deflecting her pointed question adroitly. Miranda feels warmth spread through her at Andrea's attempt to cover Caroline's slip. Miranda decides to let it go. She has more important matters to attend to.

As Miranda's eyes rake across Andrea's body, she feels a different type of heat race through her body. Andrea is gorgeous. It is obvious that over the last five years Andrea has become comfortable with herself. She seems calmer and more confident. Andrea's eyes do not skitter away from her gaze when Miranda finally drags her eyes up to stare into those chocolate pools, emphasized by beautiful dark hair framing her face.

"Hello, Andrea." Although Miranda would love to continue to stand in the hallway staring at Andrea, she recognizes just how absurd such an action would appear. Uttering some droll comment about Andrea's mouthwatering attire, Miranda abruptly turns. She needs to collect her scattered emotions quickly.

Face to face with the one person who has caused her to reexamine herself too many times over the years, Miranda is unable to maintain an aloof façade. Any delusions she might harbor of appearing unaffected are summarily wiped away by Caroline's shocked expression and Andrea's blinding smile. Obviously, some of her feelings have seeped into her tone of voice.

Miranda wonders at the power Andrea holds over her. How well does she really know Andrea? Miranda shakes such thoughts loose. She knows what is important: she knows of Andrea's integrity, intelligence, and tenacity. The everyday details of Andrea's life—those she can begin learning tonight.

Over dinner, Miranda peppers Andrea with questions. She is determined to find what is so special about Andrea Sachs. Miranda tries not to make her questions sound like an interview, but it is. Miranda is interviewing Andrea for a very important role, more important than the position of Second Assistant for which she had interviewed Andrea so long ago.

As Andrea answers questions and asks her own, Miranda cannot help but feel the attraction pulsing between them. Had it always been present? Had Miranda been so out of touch with her feelings that she had not recognized the pull she can plainly identify now? Is this the reason Miranda has never succeeded in banishing Andrea from her mind? Had Andrea established squatter's rights in her heart?

Truly, Andrea is magnificent. Miranda wants to bind Andrea to her, keep her nearby somehow.

Hearing the scraping of utensils against a plate, Miranda drags her eyes away from Andrea. Pressing her lips together, Miranda reminds herself of the premise for this shared meal. Straightening up, Miranda asks Andrea how they should handle this situation concerning Caroline. Miranda is gratified to see Andrea become thoughtful as she contemplates her answer.

Yes, the years have served Andrea well. Miranda feels she is meeting an equal.

They must be equals. Miranda needs to be with someone strong enough to not cower in the heat of an argument or to break when faced with her mercurial moods. Miranda has the feeling that Andrea knows her well enough to be able to navigate her less admirable qualities.

The question remains whether Andrea is interested enough to make such an effort. Judging by Andrea's intense gazes, probing questions, and revealing answers, Miranda is confident that they are in agreement. This is one opportunity Miranda refuses to deny herself.

"Why are you willing to do this, Andrea?" Miranda asks. She cannot quite understand what motivates Andrea's willingness to act as a mentor to her daughter. It seems too good to be true. After five years, Andrea is back in her life, selflessly offering to help Caroline.

Miranda watches Andy shrug. "There are several reasons. Her desire is apparent, just as are her reasons for lying on the application." Andy looks down shyly. "It is also an opportunity to do something for you. After all, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be working at the_ Mirror_. I have never forgotten your part in getting me that job."

Suddenly, Miranda feels as if a splash of cold water has slapped her across the face. _Because she can do something for me._

Something about that answer bothers Miranda. It reminds her of their last conversation in Paris when Miranda had explained about the list of people who owed her for nurturing them, for helping them. _Does she want me to owe her a favor for nurturing Caroline?_

Miranda cannot bear the thought that Andrea is doing this merely for professional gain. Has she misjudged Andrea? Is she merely a love-sick fool? Miranda feels disappointment seep into her soul.

"Oh, I see. You want me to owe you a favor." Miranda is frozen, angry at herself for creating ridiculous dreams and useless, absurd hopes.

But no. Andrea claims she wants nothing. She claims to want to give Caroline a break similar to the one Miranda once gave to Andrea, that she wants to help Caroline to not make the same mistakes she made. Her earnest voice and clear eyes are beseeching Miranda to believe her.

What choice does she have? Miranda can either trust Andrea or give up any hope of having Andrea in her life once more. Miranda is not willing to let Andrea go so easily.

Miranda shakes away her insecurities as she waves away Andrea's reference to the mistakes she made while working for Miranda. Hadn't she just mistakenly believed Andrea was trying to use her for professional gain? That had been caused by thinking about the past, linking Andrea's presence with past events. "We both made mistakes, Andrea." That was a long time ago. Miranda has no interest in dwelling on the past any longer. She wants to plan for the future.

Agreeing to allow the internship, Miranda asks Caroline to excuse them. She wants a few minutes alone with Andrea. Just a little while to really take her in. Once she says good night to Caroline, Miranda returns her gaze to Andrea. They sit quietly for a few minutes finally allowing themselves the luxury of staring. Sliding her hand across the table, Miranda is pleased to see Andrea do the same. Their hands meet halfway, and their fingers interlace while they maintain eye contact.

This is what she wants, what she has missed. Not that they have ever held hands before. However, Miranda always had felt as if Andrea had been holding her hand. Until she had withdrawn it in Paris. What a horribly cold day that was. And remained. Until today.

"I have missed you, Miranda." The softly spoken words thrum through Miranda. Miranda can do nothing but nod her head in agreement. Rubbing the back of Andrea's hand with her thumb slowly, Miranda allows hope to well within her. She cannot remember the last time she has felt so content. "Do you believe in fate?"

Tilting her head, Miranda answers honestly. "Not until today." It is Andrea's turn to nod in agreement. After several more moments spent in companionable silence, Miranda sighs with regret. She knows Andrea must leave. They both have an early start tomorrow. Squeezing Andrea's hand before letting go, Miranda rises to lead her guest to the front door.

Hearing the slight creak of floor boards, Miranda sighs again. _There will be no kiss tonight._

Miranda will not allow Andrea to go, however, without the promise that they will see each other again. Stopping at the door, Miranda places her hand on one of Andrea's biceps. Miranda's desire to not have Caroline witness them sharing a kiss promptly vanishes as she watches Andrea swipe her tongue across her lower lip nervously. Miranda stifles a groan. She wants to lean forward and capture those glistening lips.

_Caroline is sixteen. Surely, one kiss will not shock her too much._

Miranda barely hears Andrea thank her for dinner. She is too entranced by Andrea's expressive face. _She wants this, too._

Without hesitation, Miranda asks Andrea whether she is free on Thursday. "I would like to see you again," Miranda admits. She feels pleasure course through her at Andrea's quick acquiescence.

Miranda feels her body sway toward Andrea. Those eyes are pulling her in, surrounding her.

The floorboards creak again, and Andrea looks toward the stairs suspiciously. Miranda shoots a resigned smirk toward Andrea, who answers with a grin. Andrea changes course by tilting her head to kiss Miranda's cheek delicately, then steps back. Miranda mourns her loss. Thursday, though—she will see Andrea then. Hopefully, without an inquisitive reporter-in-training spying on them.

Exchanging final farewells, Miranda nearly swoons at Andrea's killer smile. Miranda's confidence soars with the knowledge that she has made Andrea glow, she has caused Andrea to direct that fabulous smile her way.

Leaning against the door, Miranda allows herself to just be happy. She feels a smile cover her face and shakes her head. How has this happened? Just this morning she felt lonely and defeated. Now, she feels energized and positively giddy with the possibilities suddenly present.

After indulging for a few moments, Miranda straightens up. She needs to talk to Caroline.

Standing in Caroline's doorway, Miranda watches silently as her daughter works on an article. She looks focused, certainly more than when she is finishing homework assignments. Perhaps Caroline was not exaggerating when she claimed to want to do this.

When did this happen? When did Caroline become a young adult, filled with desires and ambition? Clearing her throat softly as she crosses the threshold, Miranda takes a seat on Caroline's bed.

She is undeniably hurt that Caroline had chosen to deceive her to such an extent. Understanding her daughter's motivation does not lessen Miranda's feelings of being slighted. She would move heaven and Earth for her girls. Why won't Caroline allow her to help?

"Caroline, I simply do not understand your resistance with allowing me to help you. With a word, I could have placed you in any publication without all this subterfuge," Miranda states.

"I know, Mom, but I wanted to do this without any help. I need to prove to myself that I can do it." Caroline's face, so open and earnest, eases Miranda's distress.

"Bobbsey, you need to learn that the world is not always fair. Talent often is not enough to get you noticed. It is the connections, the people you know, who smooth the way. Once you are in place, you can dazzle everyone with your talent, but you need to get through the door first. This time it worked out for you, but at what cost?" Miranda sighs. "You lied, you deceived, you betrayed, and not just me or those at the paper, but also yourself."

Staring at her daughter, Miranda feels her heart ache. She had hoped to shelter her daughters from the harshness of the business world. Foolishness, of course. "So, no more deception. I expect this will not happen again." Caroline's quick agreement brings a small smile to Miranda's lips.

In some ways, Caroline reminds her of how Andrea was when she joined _Runway_. So independent, so self-righteous. So young and idealistic. Of course, Andrea has matured during her time as a reporter. Andrea's experiences may have opened her eyes to the realities of professional life, but somehow Andrea has managed what Miranda has not—she has retained her positive outlook.

During the last five years, Miranda has also changed. Miranda has made adjustments, learning just a bit too late that those worth having in her life must be shown their value. Nevertheless, with this second chance, Miranda is certain that between the two of them, they can reach a happy-medium.

If that is what Andrea wants.

Andrea must feel this pull, too. Didn't her eyes swim with emotion when they first saw each other, her hands tremble while at dinner, her voice weaken when Miranda smiled at her? Didn't she lean toward Miranda at the door, only moving her head to kiss Miranda's cheek after they heard Caroline on the stairs? And her smiles, they expressed Andrea's joy for being close to Miranda, didn't they?

Interrupted from her thoughts, Miranda blanches when Caroline's words register. "Since when do you like women?" As if she ever has. Only one woman has dominated her thoughts, her dreams. It has always been Andrea.

It costs her to divulge this fact, but Miranda, after denying any attraction toward other women, admits, "Andrea, it seems, is an exception." Seeing Caroline's wide smile, Miranda barely hides her relief. She is glad Caroline likes Andrea. It will smooth the way. If Miranda has read Andrea correctly, Andrea is interested in not only becoming a part of Miranda's life, but in becoming romantically involved. To that end, Miranda has no intention of hiding her feelings. She is determined to not throw away this opportunity, and she will not treat Andrea as if she is some dirty, little secret.

As Miranda makes her way to the den so she can review the Book, she cannot help but allow a smile to settle upon her face once more. Although she may be getting ahead of herself with such fanciful thinking, for once Miranda has decided to be reckless, to take the risk.

Of course, if Andrea decides she cannot enter into any type of romantic relationship, Miranda will accept her friendship. She is determined to keep Andrea in her life.

Miranda smirks. Not that she will allow mere friendship to stop her from making Andrea fall in love with her. No, no. Miranda has made her decision. She will find a way into Andrea's heart. Miranda knows the chemistry is present; she just needs to capitalize on that attraction while finding a way to reassure Andrea how safe she will always be while in Miranda's arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

**Pretense: ****1375–1425, ****late Middle English from Latin **_**praetensus**_**; early 15th century, "the putting forth of a claim," from Modern French **_**pretense**_**.****Pretension**** is circa1600 meaning "assertion;" sense of "ostentation" is from 1727.**

**1. make-believe.**

**2. the act of pretending.**

**3. a false display; affectation.**

Miranda paces the floor as nerves pound over her, more forcefully than when she had been pulled under by the Pacific undertow off the coast of California years before. Now that she is faced with the uncertainty of Andrea's feelings and her own dismal romantic record, Miranda feels her insecurities overtake her.

She refuses to treat Andrea the way she has treated past romantic interests. Miranda is well aware that Andrea has seen her at her worst. Flashes of her betrayal of Nigel in Paris so long ago, Andrea witnessing Miranda fighting with Stephen on the upper level of the townhouse, Miranda's demands to find her a way home from Florida during a hurricane—oh, yes, Andrea has certainly borne the brunt when Miranda has acted irrationally and impossibly. And then there was the _Harry Potter_ manuscript.

Attempting to charm Andrea as if she has no knowledge of who Miranda is can only be a futile exercise. Nor does Miranda wish to pretend to be someone she is not. One of the most enticing parts of Monday night's shared dinner was the knowledge that Miranda could just be herself. What Miranda has begun to realize is how little Andrea must know of her personal side, that part of her life reserved for her children and a select group of friends and family. Not many are privy to that part. Although Andrea might have seen glimpses of who Miranda truly is, Miranda desperately wants to be given the opportunity to fully introduce Andrea to the real Miranda, the one who laughs, hums, smiles, and talks.

Will Andrea be willing to take the leap of getting to know who Miranda genuinely is, the one outside of _Runway_, the one behind the carefully cultivated pretense?

That is what has Miranda so nervous, so insecure. Because Miranda has acknowledged just how important Andrea is to her, how essential it is to have the woman in her life, even though she knows little of who Andrea truly is.

Maybe she should just attempt to be friends with Andrea. Such a relationship will still be rewarding, and their attraction will fade in time. _Won't it?_

Thinking back to last night's telephone conversation, though, Miranda cannot help but think that Andrea is as interested as Miranda is. They had flirted outrageously: Miranda with her refusal to reveal where they are going to dinner, and Andrea with her lighthearted questions regarding what she should wear to their mystery dinner. Miranda was firm about picking her up at her apartment. She will not have Andrea traipsing around by subway when she can prevent it.

Talking to Andrea is much easier than Miranda had anticipated. Andrea is witty and sharp. With her knowledge of regional events and obvious interest in Miranda's day, Miranda had found herself relaxing while they conversed last night. She is looking forward to more conversation, more time spent together.

If only she could figure out which outfit to wear.

Caroline's arrival stops Miranda's pacing. Miranda is surprised to learn that not only does Caroline have knowledge of the impending date, but that both her daughters approve. Evidently, her girls have discussed Miranda's blooming romance at length. She is so relieved that she pulls Caroline in for a tight hug. How did she become so fortunate? Miranda feels herself relax as the rest of Caroline's words sink in. If Caroline is to be believed, Andrea is excited and nervous, too. That is a good sign. A very good sign.

Ultimately deciding on a simple, yet sophisticated slate blue Chanel sheath, Miranda finishes her preparations and calls out to Caroline before descending the stairs. She arrives at Andrea's apartment precisely on time, naturally, and before Miranda can exit the town car to enter the apartment building, Andrea appears. Miranda watches avidly as Andrea glides toward the car. She certainly has learned how to navigate high heels without a problem. They do a wonderful job of highlighting Andrea's toned calves.

As Andrea leans into the car, settling herself, Miranda's eyes land on the swell of generous breasts. Unable to avert her eyes and not really wanting to, Miranda greedily focuses on the revealing neckline of Andrea's Gucci dress for long moments before dragging her eyes up to Andrea's face. Although obviously a ready-to-wear garment, it still compliments Andrea's form extremely well. Miranda notices with satisfaction that Andrea's breathing has sped up. She hadn't meant to be so blatant, but she cannot regret her honest response.

"Good evening, Andrea," Miranda purrs. Miranda smiles as she watches a blush stain Andrea's cheeks. _She really is quite fetching._

"Hello, Miranda." Miranda watches as Andrea fidgets. Her hands rest on the seat, her lap, together, apart. Miranda feels her amusement growing as her nerves calm. Conversely, Andrea seems to become more nervous by the moment. Reassured that her fears were unwarranted and wanting to alleviate Andrea's fears, Miranda extends her hand to cover Andrea's twitching one. Hearing Andrea gasp, Miranda turns her head toward the window while biting her lower lip to keep her laughter at bay. Breathing in some of her lauded self-control through her nose, Miranda turns back toward Andrea.

Andrea's eyes are dark and wide as she stares at Miranda. She sits very still. Miranda wonders whether Andrea is afraid Miranda will remove her hand if Andrea draws any attention to what is happening. Andrea's face sports such a stunned look that Miranda is barely able to contain her smile. Instead, Miranda squeezes Andrea's hand and begins talking about the latest layout, knowing it will take the spotlight off Andrea and give her a chance to relax.

After a few minutes, Miranda notices how Andrea's muscles loosen. _Good._ When they arrive at the restaurant, Andrea squeezes Miranda's hand and smiles fully. Miranda's heart skips a beat before she offers a small smile in return.

Once seated, Andrea takes the time to look around. Miranda has taken her to Daniel. Miranda placed great thought into their first date. She is well aware of how important this night is, how it shall set a precedent of sorts for their future interactions.

Miranda's first thought had been to reserve a private room. Yet, she did not want Andrea to feel as if she is trying to hide their time together from prying eyes. Miranda has always fostered an image of not caring what others think. Why give the wrong impression now? She is not concerned by others' interpretations of this dinner. She is only concerned with Andrea's feelings.

She wants Andrea to feel special.

This restaurant excels in creating a romantic ambiance with attentive service, agreeable French cuisine, and sensual decor. Looking around, Miranda registers the restaurant with fresh eyes. Eighteen-foot coffered ceilings tower over arches, balustrades, and delicately carved pilasters, reflecting a neo-classical look which is complemented by sleek, elegant contemporary designs. The balustrades are encased by etched glass light boxes throughout the room. Wrought-iron wall sconces branch out providing a pleasing contrast to the hand-made porcelain tiles decorating the dining room walls. Chandeliers are set low, the light illuminating Andrea's curves spectacularly. Neutral grays, browns, and tans are accented with subdued reds and blues. Even the textures are sensual: leather and velvet. Miranda nods. She believes this restaurant will serve nicely.

"Is that by Manolo Valdes?" Andrea gasps. Miranda is impressed. She had not realized that Andrea was versed in fine art. Andrea is gazing at one of several pieces hanging in the main room which the artist created especially for the owner.

"Yes. Are you familiar with his work, Andrea?"

"Um, yeah. Yes. I was admiring some of his paintings just last week at MoMA. And, of course, I've admired his outdoor sculptures throughout Manhattan." Miranda watches Andrea drink in the paintings with greedy eyes. Miranda takes the opportunity to drink in Andrea.

Miranda notices the head sommelier walking toward them. "Do you like wine?"

"Yes," Andrea answers hesitantly.

"Do you have a preference for red or white?" Miranda continues.

"Not, not really."

"Will you trust me to order for you, Andrea?" Miranda asks softly.

"Of course. Thank you, Miranda." Miranda allows a pleased smile to cross her face. Once the sommelier reaches them, she confers with him in low tones. Soon after, their server arrives.

"We will have the tasting menu." Indicating Andrea, Miranda continues. "She will have the crab salad, scallops, halibut, beef, and the chocolate coulant. I will have the sardines, scallops, the bass, the lamb, and the chocolate coulant. All with the wine pairings." Miranda takes off her glasses and gazes at Andrea who looks a bit shocked. Miranda tilts her head.

"I, that sounds wonderful." Andrea blesses Miranda with another smile. Miranda feels lighter.

Throughout dinner, Miranda delights in Andrea's obvious enjoyment of the food and wine. Andrea often makes approving noises and smiles rapturously as she bites into the various courses. Miranda finds herself becoming mildly aroused. In addition, their conversation flows surprisingly well throughout dinner. Whereas they had used Monday night to reintroduce themselves and to fill in the events of the last five years, tonight they focus on more intimate conversation.

By the time they taste dessert, Miranda is ready to cover the polite distance between them in their rounded booth and cover that moaning mouth with hers. Andrea must read something in Miranda's look since she stops mid-moan as she swallows convulsively. Miranda cannot help the shark-like smile that blooms across her face. Andrea clears her throat once. Twice. Miranda's smile widens.

"You asked me the other night whether I believe in fate. Do you?" Miranda asks as she sips her glass of port.

"Yes and no." Miranda raises her eyebrows in question. "I need to go back to when I first moved to the city to answer that question fully." At Miranda's nod, Andrea continues. "When you hired me, I felt like it was fated. Even though, as you were so quick to point out during our interview, I didn't know who you were or anything about fashion," Andrea smiles wryly, "I knew there must be a higher power at work when you decided to give me a chance. I thought it was a sign that I would realize my dream of becoming a world-renowned journalist. After all, here I had only been in New York for a few months and I had landed a job working for the number-one fashion magazine in the world." Andrea spreads her hands in emphasis then shrugs.

"I take it your feelings changed," Miranda prompts, remembering how disillusioned Andrea had seemed in Paris.

"Yes. When I couldn't understand why certain events were occurring, why what I termed bad things were happening, I felt out of control. I characterized myself as a victim. Certainly all the things happening in my life that I did not want to accept had nothing to do with _my_ actions." Andrea's mocking voice and faked bewildered expression are clear. Andrea snorts derisively, shaking her head. "I was changing, and that scared me."

Miranda watches Andrea take a sip of her port. She is pinned by Andrea's gaze. "I blamed you. I was changing because of you. I was becoming someone I didn't know, someone my friends and my boyfriend didn't know. Whereas I first thought the job was a godsend, I came to believe it to be a curse. I became so upset that I left you, my responsibilities, and my naïve ideals."

"I thought it was your naïve ideals that drove you to leave?" Miranda prods.

"For a while, so did I. It took me quite a long time to process all that had occurred. Not just in Paris, but since I had joined _Runway_. What I finally realized was that I had been a coward. I was afraid to own my decisions. It was easier for me to bemoan my fate and call myself a victim of circumstances. When you said I could see past what others want and need and make my own decisions, I felt like a fraud because I wasn't willing to do that for myself. I wasn't willing to own my choices."

"And how does this relate to whether or not you believe in fate?" Miranda asks, intrigued. Andrea slides her hand across the booth seat to intertwine their fingers.

"I've discovered that whether I want to own my actions or not, every part of my life is up to me. Only I can take action which will bring me closer toward my dream of being a successful reporter. As long as I focus on my goals and don't worry about how I'm going to get there, I'm able to create happenstances that bring me closer to such goals. So, the shorthand is yes, I believe in fate because it's an easy label for those events bringing me toward my most cherished dreams. However, my answer is also no since I know that it's my beliefs, my hopes, and my actions that manifest each moment of my life." Andrea stares deeply into Miranda's eyes. "I've always believed our paths would cross again." Andrea smiles. "I've lived on hope."

Miranda chuckles, deeply amused. Pensively, Miranda stares at Andrea for several moments. "You have changed so much. You no longer see everything in black and white, good and bad, right and wrong." Andrea nods. Miranda allows her eyes to trace over Andrea's facial features. Miranda finds this side of Andrea very alluring. It adds a complexity to Andrea that she did not possess years ago. "You believe that all events are created by you?" Miranda questions.

"Yes. I create all the events in my life, even the events I do not like. But I think when that happens, it's my way of prompting me to make a change in my life."

"So, using your theory, it was past time for you to leave _Runway_," Miranda muses.

"I believe so. _Runway_ was a catalyst for me to embrace change, to learn how to work hard, and to find ways to accomplish the impossible." Andrea laughs at Miranda's smirk. "The problem was that I was becoming a bit too mesmerized by my boss, and that was preventing me from seeing clearly what I wanted." This is news to Miranda. Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Andrea shrugs. "It's true. I needed to leave before I did something much more inappropriate and irresponsible than leaving you in the middle of Fashion Week."

Miranda sits back against the booth and plays with her empty glass. "You have given me quite a bit to think about, Andrea. I never believed in fate, yet some events have occurred that I never could have imagined. The most obvious example is my choosing Caroline's essay for an internship where you would be assigned as the mentor." As if talking to herself, Miranda says softly as she looks away, "And so many other events where you have played a part."

Andrea's thumb, stroking her hand, helps Miranda refocus. "I have watched your career, Andrea. In fact, oftentimes I have discussed your writings with the girls. You are good at what you do. If you had remained with me, you might not have had the opportunity to write for several years. Although I did not like the way you left or even your reasons for doing so, I always understood. You are saying, though, that I helped to create the events that set you on your course and that I also created you desertion." Noticing Andrea wince at her word choice, Miranda squeezes Andrea's hand in comfort. "How is that possible if you create each event in your life?"

"It's like an enormous, intricate puzzle. Just as I create the events in my life, so do you create your life events. They all interconnect. I guess you could say that each of us is the master of our fate, that we control our destiny."

"And what happens when we want different results, when our goals differ?" Miranda asks.

"Then, things don't line up for either of us. Or for just one of us. It depends. Sometimes what we tell ourselves we want is different from what we truly desire." Andrea begins to look panicked. "But I never wanted to leave you like that in Paris. I never dreamed I could act so unprofessionally."

Miranda waves a hand negligently. "That's enough of that, wouldn't you agree? It was a long time ago." Miranda sees Andrea's relieved look and smiles gently. An intriguing glint of determination enters Andrea's eyes. Miranda wonders what Andrea is thinking. Before she can question Andrea, she speaks.

"I want to spend more time with you, Miranda. I believe our time apart was necessary, but I don't want to waste any more." Miranda is pleasantly surprised by how blunt Andrea is. She is a woman who knows what she wants. Miranda smiles fully, feeling her eyes crinkling as joy fills her.

"I agree."

"Oh. Before I forget, I want to run an idea by you. I'd like to offer Caroline an extension on the internship—the rest of the summer. I've spoken to Greg, and he has given his approval. She has worked hard, and I believe that her talents will continue to grow if she remains at the paper. By the time fall rolls around, she won't have any trouble joining the school newspaper." Andrea lifts up a hand in a stopping motion. "And just so that we are clear, I'm not doing this for you. I'd do this for any promising student who was interning."

Miranda sucks in a breath and lets it out. "I believe you, Andrea. She will be thrilled." _Yes, I have much to think about._

Too soon they sit in the car, allowing a comfortable silence to enfold them. Miranda had supposed that Andrea would be dropped off first, but Andrea insisted that Miranda be dropped off before her, pointing out that Miranda's home is closer to the restaurant.

As soon as the car slows, Andrea says, "Let me walk you to the door, Miranda." Andrea nods to Roy and says, "I'll be out in just a moment."

Miranda strides up the stairs while her mind whirls. The entire night has become a revelation. Andrea has captivated her on so many levels that Miranda feels compelled to express her elation. If she were anyone else she would be tempted to don an iPod and dance around to some abominable fist-pumping music. Miranda shakes her head slightly to clear it. She is allowing her mind to wander. Another unusual reaction to consider.

Miranda slides the key into the door lock and walks across the threshold into the low-lit hall.

Turning around, Miranda offers her thanks for Andrea's escort even as she points out how unnecessary it was. Miranda is uncertain what to do. She knows what she wants to do.

Andrea closes the door gently and approaches as she answers, "Sure it was. How else could I do this?" Miranda has no time to prepare as Andrea leans in to join their lips.

The connection is mind-shattering. All thoughts vacate Miranda's mind as sensation takes over. Andrea's lips barely graze Miranda's, and yet she feels immobilized by the shock of desire that blazes through her. The kiss is so slow, so careful, so gentle. Miranda cannot speed it up, cannot apply more pressure, cannot even pull Andrea closer. All action is held captive by the sweetness of the moment.

The kiss serves as a conduit, connecting them in ways more intimate than Miranda could ever have anticipated. She can feel Andrea's affection, her desire, her conviction. In turn, Miranda communicates her absolute commitment toward allowing Andrea behind her walls by opening herself completely.

Miranda gets lost in the kiss, reveling in the taste and texture of reverent lips and just the slightest brushing of a tongue Miranda longs to suck. She restrains herself, though, knowing there will be other kisses, other opportunities to allow passion to rule.

Ultimately, the kiss ends. Andrea draws back slowly. Miranda mourns their separation, taking a few moments to savor these feelings before opening her eyes. Miranda allows her gaze to drink in Andrea's swollen mouth, dark, dark, eyes, and heaving chest.

But Andrea must leave. Miranda wraps her arms around herself so she will not pull Andrea to her and plunder that alluring mouth. That tasty, heavenly mouth.

Wanting to spend more time with Andrea, Miranda invites her over on Sunday. With a short kiss that stretches Miranda's restraint, she steps away. "Until Sunday." After the door closes, Miranda leans against it as she attempts to regain her equilibrium. _What she does to me!_

Miranda cocks her head, feeling as if she is being watched. _Caroline._ "Go to bed, Caroline." Miranda is not surprised to hear her daughter's hurried good-night wishes. Once again alone, Miranda walks slowly into the den.

Sitting down on the chaise, Miranda stares blankly at the mantle. Lolling her head against the cushion, Miranda allows her mind to wander. She can well imagine revisiting the subject of fate and controlling one's destiny with Andrea. Miranda had found herself feeling flat-footed at dinner, even though she had introduced the topic. Andrea has surprised her again and again with her maturity, her honesty, and her charm. Miranda cannot remember ever being so fascinated by another person.

In fact, Miranda can well imagine sharing many conversations with Andrea Sachs. She is excited by the prospect. As tonight demonstrated, Miranda has not indulged often enough in discussing such interesting ideas. There was a time when Miranda actively sought to expand her thinking, but over the years she has found it too difficult to cultivate the type of familiarity with acquaintances that allows for mental exploration.

Miranda has always been attracted to Andrea's intelligence. It was what had tipped the scales in favor of hiring her. Even during that short interview, Miranda had recognized a certain spark, a fire behind those doe eyes, which had made Miranda pause. Andrea displayed no affectations, no pretenses. Miranda has missed such refreshing honesty. This new layer of complexity just makes Andrea that much more attractive.

Looking around the room, Miranda's gaze sweeps over the bookcase. Yes, this is what she wants. She wants to be able to fill a bookcase with novels dedicated to Andrea—each book a study of one aspect of Andrea's personality, thinking, reactions, feelings, background. Everything. Miranda wants to know all the little details she never had the chance to learn, as well as all the motivations and desires and dreams and hopes that propel Andrea forward.

In return, Miranda will share herself. This is more than she ever has offered to anyone else. As scary as the idea is, Miranda knows she can trust Andrea. Miranda feels compelled to embrace such a course of action, regardless of her fears.

Whether she labels it as her destiny, her fate, or her choice to take such action matters little. It all amounts to the same result: Miranda has decided to hand over her heart to one unforgettable Andrea Sachs.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

**Focus: 1640s, from Latin **_**focus**_**"hearth, fireplace," used in post-classical times for "fire" itself.**

**1. A central point, as of attraction, attention, or activity. **

**2. the area that may be seen distinctly or resolved into a clear image; the clear and sharply defined condition of an image. **

**3. to fix attention on, to concentrate. **

**4. center, heart, core.**

The last six weeks have been the most frustrating, illuminating, and thrilling days in Miranda's life.

Miranda sits with Donatella picking at her salad as the designer drones on about the fall fashion line. Miranda has to admit that the new line is sexy, sleek, and bound to be successful. In fact, Miranda can well imagine Andrea wearing quite a few of the pieces, particularly the short skirts paired with the leather jackets and the long evening gowns with a slit up to the waist.

Andrea has gorgeous legs, legs Miranda would love to have wrapped around her waist, legs like those belonging to that woman seated a few tables away. Scanning the woman's legs, Miranda feels appreciation build as she follows the line of toned legs up to a barely-there skirt, tight blouse—tight enough that Miranda can see the outline of abdominal muscles and well-formed breasts—to the low, rounded eyelet-embroidered collar. Finishing her perusal, Miranda's eyes connect with the woman who is displaying her femininity so blatantly.

Miranda sits, shocked to find that she has been taking inventory of Andrea's body. Even more shocking, if Andrea's facial expression is any indication, Andrea is well-aware of how much she is affecting Miranda.

"She is very attractive, isn't she?" Donatella says, causing Miranda to break her connection with Andrea.

Miranda sniffs. "I suppose." Chancing another glance back, she watches as Andrea throws her head back and laughs at something her companion says. Miranda's eyes narrow as she notes just how comfortable they seem together. A man, probably Andrea's age, is dressed in an Armani suit. Andrea hadn't mentioned anything about dining out tonight.

_Not that I have given her the opportunity._

The week has been hellish. The _Runway_ staff is beginning to prepare for Paris fashion week, and as happens every year, Miranda finds herself inundated with work that has kept her from her daughters and now from Andrea. They haven't had the chance to see each other in two weeks. Although they talk by telephone, their conversations have tended to be brief due to the lateness of the hour and mutual exhaustion.

Miranda had mentioned her dinner with Donatella just last night. It seems every meal is scheduled with a designer, photographer, or celebrity. Since their first date, Miranda has only been able to see Andrea a few times at her home when Andrea had accompanied Caroline back to the townhouse for dinner, two hurried lunches during the work-week, and one Sunday afternoon. _Unacceptable._

Feeling the need to see more of Andrea, Miranda has left strict instructions with her assistant to keep this Friday night open. Miranda had intended to invite Andrea to dinner with the hope that Andrea would stay with her that night. The girls will be sleeping at their respective best friends' homes. It has been the promise of a long-denied night of passion that has kept Miranda's frustration over their forced separation at bay. They have done little more than steal kisses at the front door.

"She seems to be interested in you. She keeps trying to catch your eye," Donatella continues, oblivious to Miranda's turmoil. Miranda glances at Andrea once more and finds herself mesmerized by a glorious smile aimed her way. Miranda turns her gaze away with difficulty, not knowing what the hell is occurring. Who is with Andrea? Why is she flaunting herself this way? Is she trying to communicate to Miranda that she is no longer interested in waiting for an overworked, middle-aged, mother of two to make time for her? Or is she hinting that there are plenty of other people—younger, more available admirers— interested in spending time with her?

"I know her," Miranda says absently, then freezes with her wine-glass part-way to her lips when she realizes what she has just admitted.

"You do? How?" Donatella leans forward eagerly.

Wanting to change the subject but knowing Donatella can be like a pitbull with her favorite juicy bone once her interest is piqued, Miranda says, "She used to be my assistant years ago. She's a reporter for the_ Mirror _nowadays."

"You've kept in touch?" Donatella asks, clearly surprised.

"No." Miranda sighs. "Well, not until recently. She is mentoring one of my daughters for a summer internship."

"Really. It looks like she wants to do more than help your daughter." Miranda hears the innuendo but refuses to reveal more. Donatella can find out when the world does. If she doesn't kill Andrea first for flaunting herself to everyone and driving Miranda to distraction in the process.

Miranda stares hard at Donatella before pointedly changing the subject. Donatella takes the hint and drops the subject. Once they finish their meal, Miranda notes with disappointment that Andrea has left. After the requisite air-kisses, Miranda leaves Donatella at the table, striding past the bar toward the exit.

Andrea doesn't say a word when she matches Miranda's pace, but no need exists. Miranda feels the electricity arc between them. Without pausing, Miranda makes her way to the car and grasps Andrea's arm, practically throwing her inside.

Miranda is so conflicted she restrains herself from uttering a single word during the entire car ride home. Holding herself stiffly, Miranda purses her lips as she tries to calm down. She needs to give Andrea the benefit of the doubt. Andrea would not seek to hurt Miranda by publicly throwing herself at another person. She will just have to ask Andrea why she was at the restaurant and then listen instead of levying accusations.

"If I need you, I will contact you. That's all," Miranda says to Roy as they leave the car. Opening the door, Miranda says, "Andrea, wait for me in the den. I need to speak to the girls for a moment."

"What—I'd like to say hello—I," Andrea begins to argue.

"No. Not like that." Miranda stares pointedly at the wide expanse of skin offered for anyone's perusal and feels anger flare. "Go."

Looking into Caroline's room, she sees what is now a common sight: Caroline types furiously on her computer while listening to her iPod. Knocking on the door frame, Miranda smiles slightly. "I wanted to make sure you know I'm home. I need to concentrate on something very important, so I cannot be disturbed. I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Bobbsey." Accepting her daughter's hug, Miranda spends little time speaking to Cassidy before making her way to the den.

Taking a deep breath, Miranda strides into the room and closes the door. The click of the lock shatters the silence as Miranda once more takes her time raking her gaze over endless legs, taut stomach muscles, perky breasts, and defined collarbones. When Miranda finally connects with hooded eyes, she can do nothing but stare.

Balling her hands into fists, Miranda finally says in a low voice, "Just what did you think you were doing? Displaying yourself in public like this." Miranda flicks a hand sharply as her voice becomes lower. "Is this your way of baiting me? Of showing me what I am missing? Of whom you can have at your beck and call if I do not make time for you?"

"Miranda, no!" Andrea says. "I just wanted to see you. It's been two weeks—"

"Two weeks," Miranda interrupts. "Two weeks and you've moved on. Is that it? Are you telling me—"

"Miranda, listen to me!" Andrea jumps up from the chair, her hands landing on Miranda's shoulders. For a moment, Miranda thinks Andrea is going to shake her. She doesn't, though.

Andrea seems distraught, and it is that look coupled with the desperate tone in her voice which stops Miranda's tirade. Andrea takes the temporary silence as her chance. "I dressed for you. The person I was with, Doug, is a friend, just a friend. He knows I'm in love with you, that I have been for years. Please, Miranda. How can you think I would flaunt myself with someone else, that I could be so cruel? Do you think I would give you up so easily?"

Watching tears fill Andrea's eyes, feeling her tremble as she fights for breath, Miranda's mind stutters on Andrea's confession. _She loves me. Has loved me for years._ Miranda blinks slowly as Andrea's words penetrate her fears.

Breaking Andrea's hold on her shoulders, Miranda reaches up and pulls Andrea's head forward roughly. Miranda allows all her feelings to surface as she crushes her lips against Andrea's sweet, sweet mouth. She swallows Andrea's sobs, not allowing the kiss to end. Pulling Andrea closer, Miranda takes great pleasure exploring every inch of that luscious mouth—gums, teeth, tongue—Miranda cannot get enough.

"Say it again," Miranda demands finally. She holds Andrea, only pulling back enough to look into wet, dark eyes.

"I love you, Miranda. I love you." This time Andrea initiates their kisses. Miranda guides Andrea toward the sofa with small shuffling steps as she yields to Andrea's nearly desperate kisses. Miranda feels just as desperate. Miranda gently lowers Andrea onto the sofa, straddling her as they continue to kiss. Andrea's prostrate body, laid out so wantonly beneath her, takes Miranda's breath away.

Miranda feels as if Andrea is drinking her in, so thirsty are her kisses. If only others knew just how easily Andrea is thawing Miranda's infamous icy exterior with those scorching lips.

"Andrea," Miranda whispers as she breaks away to kiss her way up an exposed neck. "If you are not ready to proceed any further, you should leave now." Of course, Miranda has effectively pinned Andrea against the cushions, but she is fairly certain Andrea has no desire to stop what they have begun.

"God, Miranda. Don't stop," Andrea pants. Miranda feels a bolt of triumph surge through her quickly chased by red-hot desire. Without giving warning, Miranda reaches down and pulls Andrea's blouse off, then twists the bra fastenings to remove it, too. Miranda's breath leaves her as she sees just how glorious Andrea's body is.

"Andrea," Miranda's voice breaks as she struggles to say something. Truly, though, Miranda has trouble thinking of anything other than how young and supple Andrea's body is, how fortunate, even honored, she feels to have it offered to her, and how urgent her need is. Bending forward, Miranda covers one of Andrea's luscious breasts, moaning at how wonderful she tastes. Andrea pulls Miranda closer as she explores the texture of Andrea's nipple with her lips. Miranda caresses the spaces between each rib and a hardening nipple with trembling hands. Divine.

"Andrea, you are simply exquisite. I have waited, Andrea, for so long. I have wanted you, needed you. I thought you could never feel the same. There seemed no way," Miranda mutters in between strong licks and gentle nips. Loving the mewling sounds she hears, Miranda pulls on the other nub, twisting and squeezing ruthlessly as Andrea squirms beneath her. So responsive. So lovely.

Switching nipples, Miranda begins to suck hard as her fingers pull on the other nipple. She feels Andrea's hips pushing up in an unmistakable rhythm as strong hands cup Miranda's ass. Miranda groans and tilts her pelvis so she can meet each thrust.

Needing to taste those bewitching lips once more, Miranda lifts her head up. She stops for a moment to gaze at Andrea's face. Her eyes are squeezed shut as she breathes in short spurts, neck arched, face flushed. She is beautiful. Simply beautiful.

Carefully, gently, Miranda kisses Andrea. Andrea's moan is long and low as if it is being dragged from her toes. It wraps around Miranda, calming her a bit so that she is able to slow down. As frantic as her need to make Andrea hers has made her, she will never forgive herself if she does not convey just how much she cares for Andrea, too. Miranda isn't sure why she hasn't declared her love. The feelings are present, have been for so long. She loves Andrea.

Sucking on Andrea's lower lip, Miranda murmurs, "I cannot bear to wait any longer, my dear Andrea." Miranda gazes into eyes brimming with emotion and smiles. Sliding down Andrea's addictive body, Miranda stops to nibble on Andrea's belly-button and to outline contracting abdominal muscles with her tongue before situating herself between parted legs. Slowly, Miranda unzips Andrea's skirt and pulls it off with her panties. After lifting toned legs over her shoulders, Miranda turns her head to kiss the inside of one knee. She feels powerful when Andrea's legs begin to quake. Andrea arches her back, causing her chest to thrust forward as wild eyes beg Miranda to continue.

Controlling herself barely, Miranda kisses up the inside of Andrea's legs. Smelling Andrea's arousal, seeing the proof dripping down her thighs, Miranda's mouth waters. Not hesitating a moment, not caring that she has never performed this act before, Miranda dives in.

Licking from Andrea's opening to just below her clitoris, Miranda revels in hearing her name shouted. Stopping, Miranda tilts her head and says, "As much as I love hearing you, I do not think you want us to be interrupted by inquisitive teens. Perhaps a pillow can help?" Smirking at Andrea's response—pulling a pillow up to her mouth without hesitation—Miranda returns to the lovely task of pleasing Andrea.

To Miranda's intense pleasure (she drives Andrea to orgasm so quickly) and dissatisfaction (on Friday she will torture Andrea for much longer before granting release), Andrea shrieks into the pillow scant minutes after Miranda begins to feast. Miranda should have realized that touching Andrea's clitoris strongly with her tongue would send Andrea over the edge.

Feeling hands pulling on her shoulders, Miranda crawls up to straddle Andrea once more.

Wiping her face with the back of one hand, Miranda realizes how badly she needs Andrea's touch. Andrea leans up for an intense kiss as both hands unclasp Miranda's slacks. Miranda steadies herself by placing her hands to either side of Andrea's lovely face. Soon, one of Andrea's hands is pulling the zipper down while the other hand slides inside Miranda's panties. Miranda rips her mouth away as sensation overwhelms her. Canting her hips, Miranda feels Andrea's fingers enter her as the other hand presses upon her lower back.

Staring into Andrea's eyes, Miranda rides those three fingers for all she's worth. Miranda tries to keep quiet, but she finds it to be a losing battle. Miranda kisses Andrea to keep her noises muffled, distractedly admitting to herself that a pillow would come in handy right now. When her orgasm crashes over her, Miranda breaks their kiss, struggling to maintain their eye contact. She wants Andrea to see her emotions, to understand how profoundly moving this intimacy is for her. As her climax plays out, Miranda slows her gyrations, finally resting her head against Andrea's neck.

Miranda doesn't know how long they rest this way: Andrea's fingers nestled within Miranda as her other hand hugs her tightly. All Miranda knows is how calming it is listening to Andrea's breathing, how fulfilled she feels, how certain she is that this is what she wants, who she wants. Kissing Andrea's throat, Miranda pulls back, smiling into Andrea's vibrant eyes before meeting her for a languid, lingering kiss—a kiss reflecting mutual satisfaction.

"I intended to call you tonight to invite you to dinner on Friday. Will you join me?" Miranda asks softly.

"Yes. I'd love to." Andrea kisses Miranda's jaw, provoking Miranda's breath to hitch without permission.

"Good. The girls will be staying at their respective friends' houses that night." Miranda raises an eyebrow, her question clear.

"I'll bring a bag," Andrea says. Miranda smiles. Lifting up, Miranda tries not to react when Andrea removes her fingers. Missing her touch so quickly cannot be normal, can it?

Miranda has something more pressing to deal with right now, though. She doesn't know how to ask Andrea whether she will stay the night.

"What is it?" Andrea asks, gently sliding a hand down Miranda's arm to capture her hand.

"Tonight wasn't planned." With a small smile, Miranda continues. "I'll understand if you say no, but I'd like for you to stay." Reading Andrea's hesitation, Miranda nods. "Very well. Friday shall arrive soon enough."

"It's not that I don't want to—" Andy begins.

"No, no. Andrea, it's fine. Really." Swinging her leg backward, Miranda shakily gets to her feet. She feels tired and old. Running a hand through her hair, Miranda looks around the room. Absently, Miranda listens to the sounds of Andrea dressing while zipping up her Chanel slacks and straightening her top. Looking into the mirror over the mantle, Miranda attempts to repair her smeared make-up and mussed white hair. Her blue eyes have a washed-out appearance, as if her disappointment has bled the color from them.

With a sigh, Miranda calls Roy to pick Andrea up. She will not allow Andrea to travel by subway while wearing such provocative apparel. Clamping down on another sigh, Miranda turns to face the room, glancing around to make sure it doesn't appear as if they have just indulged in wild, life-changing lovemaking. A hand gently lifts her chin, redirecting her focus.

"Miranda, I never dreamed I would be able to do more than flirt and maybe speak with you at the restaurant tonight. I simply needed to see you, if only for a few minutes. I certainly didn't expect to come back here with you." Andrea bites her lower lip before continuing. "I have an article due tomorrow, and my notes are on my laptop at home. Otherwise, you'd never get rid of me. But, please, please, Miranda, believe me when I say that I don't want to leave."

Miranda feels a weight fall off her shoulders. She embraces Andrea for long moments, feeling her lover's strength seep into her body. Breathing deeply, Miranda nuzzles Andrea's throat, taking a moment to kiss it with an open mouth. Feeling Andrea tremble in her arms, she is sorely tempted to continue. Instead, Miranda pulls back and nods her head. "I believe you," Miranda says lightly. Staring intensely at Andrea, Miranda promises, "On Friday I intend to explore every inch of your body with my mouth. Thoroughly. You'd better sleep well Thursday night." Turning, Miranda opens the door and saunters toward the front of the house.

Andrea quickly catches up, her face flushed. Feeling mischievous, Miranda turns to Andrea and whispers sensually into Andrea's ear, "There will not be enough pillows in the house to smother your screams on Friday, Andrea. You'll be begging me to let you come."

Hands swing Miranda against the door as lips cover hers passionately. Miranda gets lost in the kiss, feeling her body sag. She is held up by Andrea's strong arms as Miranda winds her fingers through Andrea's silky tresses. When the kiss ends, Miranda takes a few moments to collect herself before opening her eyes. They keep their faces close as they smile at each other.

"We'll see who does the most begging, Miranda," Andrea says in a low voice, a promise in her eyes.

"That sounds like a challenge I wouldn't mind losing," Miranda murmurs, delivering a chaste kiss before releasing Andrea. Taking her cue, Andrea delivers a full smile before opening the door. They see the Mercedes glide up to the curb.

"Good night, Miranda."

"Good night, darling." After Andrea leaves, Miranda is unable to stop smiling. Not that she tries very hard. When she finally lies down to sleep, Miranda closes her eyes eagerly, hoping her dreams will incorporate what they shared a few short hours before. In past dreams, her imagination could not create any scenario close to the reality of Andrea's body undulating under her, the sound of Andrea's moans, the taste of Andrea's excitement. Now, though, she knows. With that smile firmly in place, Miranda relaxes into her dreams. After all, now that her imagination can tap into glorious reality, it will know just what type of sweet dreams to create.

* * *

When Friday arrives, Miranda is so energized she practically vibrates. All she has been able to focus on is Andrea—her lips, her breasts, her fingers, her thighs. Miranda takes a steadying breath. Andrea is meeting her at _Runway_ so they can dine early and return to the townhouse. Miranda wants plenty of time to explore Andrea properly. Tuesday was more like an appetizer—a very appealing, filling one, but certainly not a complete meal. Tonight Miranda is determined to feast in an immodestly gluttonous fashion and enjoy every moment.

She worries she won't be able to deliver on the promises she made to Andrea, that she will not be able to make the younger woman beg and scream. Miranda firms her lips. She will make sure Andrea is satisfied. Andrea will never want another's hands on her body, another's lips pressed against her. Miranda will do whatever is necessary. She simply cannot fail. Not with Andrea.

It isn't just that Miranda finds Andrea attractive physically. Miranda knows better than most how to manipulate what others see. She knows how time can ravage the clearest, softest skin, loosen the firmest, fittest muscles, and weather the most luxurious, supple hair. Although Miranda is quick to admit that Andrea is extremely fetching, it is her versatile mind which has captured Miranda's heart—it had long ago.

The notion that Andrea is just as captivated by Miranda is astounding.

Miranda worries that, although Andrea may think she is in love with Miranda, she is probably in love with who she thinks Miranda is or who she hopes Miranda to be. Miranda intends to make Andrea fall in love with who she truly is. She began the process six weeks ago. Tonight she will continue letting Andrea get to know the woman behind the public figure.

Miranda brings Andrea to Celeste's, a restaurant she usually only enjoys with her daughters. Although the place has received mixed reviews, Miranda has always enjoyed superior service. They enjoy a decidedly casual meal of salad and pizza. Miranda even indulges in a cappuccino before they quit the establishment. As during their first date, the more fidgety Andrea becomes, the calmer Miranda becomes. She cannot help but feel reassured by Andrea's nervousness. Despite her anxiety, Andrea seems unable to stop focusing on Miranda's body and on particular parts of her anatomy.

Miranda may, as a rule, choose to not reveal too much skin while in the workplace, but that does not stop her from allowing tailored clothes that fit her form perfectly to expose a hint of cleavage, the length of her toned legs, or the illusion of a small waist. Part of Miranda's apprehensiveness for this night lies not only in her ability to please Andrea but also in knowing she will have no clothes protecting her from her ardent lover's gaze. Miranda doesn't think she will recover if she sees any type of negative emotion clouding Andrea's eyes when Miranda reveals herself. Never has she felt their age gap more acutely.

* * *

Hours later Miranda muses over her unwarranted fears. Andrea's fingers caress her shoulders as Miranda listens to the steady beat of Andrea's heart underneath her ear. "I love you," Miranda says softly. She wants to say more, but she does not. The details are not so important, anyway. They are together, connected by an unbreakable bond she does not need to understand.

Andrea's heartbeat speeds up with Miranda's admission. Arms hold her tightly. Miranda is surprised to feel droplets gliding down one shoulder as lips kiss the slope gently. Lifting her head to capture Andrea's gaze, Miranda repeats, "I love you." Without any further conversation, Miranda begins the wonderful process of demonstrating that love physically once more.

When they finally drag themselves out of bed several hours later, Miranda finds a note slipped under her bedroom door by Caroline announcing that she is home. Miranda shakes her head and hands it to Andrea. Surely, Caroline must know that Andrea is here. It's not as if they were quiet last night. Or earlier this morning. Meeting Andrea's wide eyes with a smirk, Miranda opens the door and makes her way to the kitchen.

Miranda has never been good at morning-afters. In her experience, she and whomever she was with tended to act in a stiff and formal fashion, as if meeting for the first time instead of having spent the night fucking. And with the majority of past lovers, that's all it had been—fucking.

However, Miranda is beginning to realize that having sex is not being intimate. She is learning that she has rarely been intimate with her lovers—certainly not to the level of intimacy she has shared with Andrea. And, although Miranda is quick to admit to herself she should not feel so surprised, she finds that instead of feeling weak or vulnerable, she feels exactly the opposite.

After hours of learning Andrea's body and, in fact, making Andrea beg and scream, Miranda had found herself content to reveal many secrets to Andrea. Although she supposes she could blame such candidness to the late hour and post-coital bliss, the truth is that Miranda trusts in a future with Andrea.

This connection feels solid and real. No smoke and mirrors, no manipulations or games. For the first time in a very long time, Miranda feels as if she can let out her breath and just relax.

They prepare breakfast silently, trading small smiles and glancing touches as they retrieve food and drink from pantry and refrigerator, plates and utensils from cabinets and drawers. They may not speak aloud, but the conversation is present: Miranda with her request that Andrea remain in her life, Andrea with her promise to never walk away again.

Both must attend to work matters later in the day, but that does not dampen Miranda's pleasure of having Andrea with her now. Speaking quietly, Miranda suggests Andrea join her Sunday night. Miranda wants to invite Andrea to come back tonight, even if it must be late, but she is afraid to place Andrea in the awkward position of refusing. Miranda refuses to sound so needy.

"Oh, right, well, you must be working late tonight," Andrea says hesitantly, her deep brown eyes clouding with disappointment. "Yeah, tomorrow evening will be great."

Studying Andrea closely Miranda realizes that she is withdrawing, behavior gloriously absent last night. Clasping Andrea's hand, Miranda squeezes and waits. When Andrea returns Miranda's gaze, Miranda says, "Will you stay with me tonight? I'll be home by ten. You're welcome to come here before then. You can work on your articles in the den."

The myriad of emotions that cross Andrea's face all translate to one answer: yes. Andrea leans down to kiss Miranda just as Caroline tromps into the room. With a sprightly greeting, Caroline ignores them while preparing her breakfast. Miranda takes the opportunity to finish working out the details for tonight with Andrea.

Caroline's voice interrupts their gentle flirting. She proves just how much her reporter's intuition has developed over the summer by accurately summing up Miranda's and Andrea's unnecessary separation and heartache. "Pining away," Caroline labels it. With an amusing warning to both of them not to sabotage this relationship delivered as only a naïve albeit earnest sixteen-year old can, Caroline once again reinforces her support. Miranda loves her for it.

"So, I'm getting the exclusive, right?" Caroline has the bluster to ask. Miranda bites back laughter and raises her eyebrows. Truly, has she ever felt so damn content, has her heart ever felt so full?


	5. Epilogue

Epilogue

**Creator: circa 1300, "Supreme Being," from Anglo-French **_**creator**_**(academic and liturgical, alongside popular **_**creere**_**), from Latin **_**creatorem**_**, from **_**creatus**_**"to make, produce," related to **_**crescere, **_**"arise, grow." Translated in Old English as **_**scieppend**_**from verb **_**scieppan**_** m****eaning "one who creates."**

**1. ****to evolve from one's own thought or imagination, as a work of art or an invention. **

**2. ****to be the cause or occasion of; give rise to****. **

**3. ****to cause to happen; bring about; arrange, as by intention or design.**

Stepping into the townhouse, Miranda feels the stress leave her shoulders when she hears two outraged shouts quickly followed by a peal of laughter. Andrea and the girls. Miranda places her bag on a side table and finds them in the kitchen. Miranda leans in to deliver a kiss to Caroline's, then to Cassidy's cheek. Rounding the island, Miranda stops in front of Andrea with a quirked eyebrow. Andrea smiles broadly in greeting before leaning in to deliver a heavenly kiss.

"Mmmm," Miranda hums. "What are you three up to?" Looking around she notes the expressions of mock outrage on her daughters' faces and clear amusement on Andrea's lovely visage. "You told them, I take it."

Miranda had had a feeling Andrea would not be able to keep the secret. Actually, Miranda had counted on it. Smirking at Andrea's sheepish look, Miranda turns her attention to Cassidy and Caroline. "Objections?"

"We're eighteen."

"We don't need chaperones."

"Very well. Since you are adults, you are welcome to vacation wherever you wish. Of course, you will have to find a way to pay for it." Miranda feels laughter welling up as she glances at Andrea. It doesn't help that Andrea is so obviously enjoying her daughters' sudden back-peddling.

Giving in to the moment, Miranda allows her puckish sense of humor to reveal itself, chuckling freely while Caroline proclaims how great this vacation will be for the four of them. Cassidy's hearty agreement pushes Miranda to chortle, which quickly leads into full-fledged guffaws. Noticing everyone's widened eyes and hoots of renewed laughter, Miranda allows her laughter to fade away as she leans into Andrea's body.

"What? You've never seen a person laugh before? Really. How absurd." Miranda sniffs as she wipes tears from her eyes. What a wonderful feeling. She looks around, her eyes softening with affection as she notes their delighted looks.

This is what she has created. A life full of laughter, smiles, and conversation. Miranda hums her pleasure as she feels Andrea's arms encircle her waist. Bliss.

"What's this?" Andrea asks as she focuses on the bag Miranda holds. Miranda turns in Andrea's arms.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Miranda replies as she extends the bag toward Andrea.

"What—it's not Valentine's Day," Andrea says, her eyebrows puckering appealingly.

Miranda waves a hand dismissively. "It will be, someday." Miranda's lips turn up at her daughters' barks of laughter. They crowd Andrea, waiting to see what is in the bag.

With another confused look, Andrea withdraws a jewelry box. Opening it carefully, her gasp is echoed by Cassidy and Caroline. "Wow! Take it out, Andy!" Caroline says excitedly.

"Mom! Oh my God!" Cassidy shouts incredulously.

Stunned, Andrea takes the jewelry from the case and studies it closely. Miranda had thought about what to gift Andrea very carefully. It's not as if she hasn't showered Andrea with jewelry over the past two years—she has. Yet, this is certainly the most expensive, the most eye-catching of all those gifts. Miranda has even taken out an insurance policy for it.

Miranda gently takes the Ebel Brasilia Lady Haute Joaillerie watch from Andrea's shaking hands and affixes the clasp around Andrea's left wrist. Perfect.

Although Miranda had been tempted to purchase the most expensive selection, she wants Andrea to actually wear the watch, at least when they are together. Miranda had debated for several days which metal to order—the rose gold or white gold. Of course, all the watches Miranda considered contain diamonds.

Her final choice, the one reducing Andrea to speechlessness, consists of 18-karat white gold and diamonds with a mother-of-pearl dial. Diamonds sit in the number spots as well as throughout the case and bracelet. Quite a few diamonds adorn the watch—precisely 427 of them—equaling more than three carats. It looks gorgeous on Andrea's wrist. Miranda smiles fully as Andrea pulls her in for a fierce hug.

"Girls, close your eyes," Andrea says breathlessly before swooping in to deliver an exuberant kiss that turns passionate rather quickly. Miranda receives the joyous kiss, wrapping her hands around Andrea's attractive face and kissing her back forcefully. She had visualized just this moment all day. Vaguely she hears feet beating a hasty retreat, but all she can truly focus on are lips moving against hers, hands mapping her back, moans becoming groans as they press against each other tightly.

"Well," Miranda says, breathlessly. She leans into Andrea's body, their breath mingling as Miranda searches Andrea's eyes. "I am assuming you like the watch."

"Like it? Really, Miranda." Andrea chuckles. "I love it. I love you."

Miranda beams. "I had an inscription engraved."

"You did?" Andrea says. She takes off the watch and turns it over to read it. " 'We create our destiny.' Oh, Miranda, it's perfect." Andrea delivers another short, heartfelt kiss.

"I love you, Andrea." Running fingers over those lovely lips, Miranda is sorely tempted to finish what Andrea's kisses have begun. The girls would not be happy, though. They have been looking forward to eating out all week. "We shall continue this later." Watching Andrea's eyes darken, Miranda cannot help but quirk her lips upward. "Shall we?" Miranda indicates the door and sashays toward it. "The girls will want details about our vacation."

Andrea's laughter follows her through the house. "Oh, yes. They most certainly will."

Knowing her girls will not be disappointed by their vacation plans, Miranda allows her amusement to reach her eyes. She can hardly wait for their reactions to what Miranda is creating for them, what they are all creating together.

Taking Andrea's hand, Miranda kisses the palm. Miranda fully expects the future to be as magnificent and bright as the last couple of years have been. She will not allow herself to create anything less.

The End.


End file.
